


That One Last Lotus

by FaeriexQueen



Series: Yulma Week 2020 [5]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Identity Issues, Loss of Identity, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeriexQueen/pseuds/FaeriexQueen
Summary: Alma hated what they had done to him. And he hated them even more for keeping him alive. (Canon AU)
Relationships: Kanda Yuu/Alma Karma
Series: Yulma Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759696
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	That One Last Lotus

Alma had survived, and he hated it.  
  
He hated every bit of it. He hated that once again he had been cheated of death – that he had once again he had been deprived of that dark, eternal slumber. The very slumber that he had previously fallen into so many years ago, with that sweet salvation of silence and the promise of never waking up again. The promise of finally being at _peace-_  
  
He could never be at peace. He would never be allowed such a mercy.  
  
Alma should have known such would be his fate. He had been damned to such from the very beginning.  
  
It had been almost three months since he had awakened. Three months since the Noah had come, twisting his comatose body with dark matter until he was nothing more than some pathetic akuma: a caricature of something that had once been living. Of something that had once been _human_.  
  
He had never really been human, though. Not ever since he was resurrected as a second exorcist. Even then, he had been a monstrosity.  
  
Alma shifted. The room was cold, if it could even be called that. The walls were stone, the ground chilled and hard. There were no windows, or openings that Alma could look out of aside from the door that always remained locked. On the other side, CROWs remained stationed; even though Alma couldn’t see them, he knew they were there. They were there, with their seals to lock the doors, to ensure that Alma would not escape.  
  
The mere thought made Alma laugh bitterly. Why didn’t they just lock him in an actual cell? They might as well. The only other thing in the room was a simple bed for him to sleep on, but otherwise the space was barren. Empty. _Dark_. There were two lanterns on the wall, but they were so dim…  
  
Alma wished that he had died that day he had been turned into an akuma. He wished that Yuu could have just finally finished him off. At least that way his final memory would have been of the sky.  
  
Something scraped outside the door, and Alma tensed. His tail twitched, his legs curled up to his chest as he sat on the thin, lumpy mattress.  
  
A whispered murmur reached Alma’s ears, but Alma couldn’t make out what was said. Soon enough, the whispers died.  
  
Alma exhaled, relief seeping into his chest. He didn’t want anyone to come in. He didn’t want to see anyone. He hated them. He hated the Order _so much_ -  
  
 _‘I want to die…’_  
  
The thought splintered through his mind, a searing pain spilling through Alma’s veins. His hands clutched at the thin linen sheets, his nails sharp as they dug into the fabric. Faintly, his grip trembled.  
  
No. No, the Order would never allow him to die. They would keep him alive, locked away until they had found some sick and twisted use for him. It didn’t matter that he was nothing more than a powerless creature, skin cracked and ashen. The majority of his powers had been dried up months ago, and most of his regenerative abilities were gone. It had taken a full two months for him to recover enough to where he could walk, though his muscles were terribly weak and his body fragile. Another attack, and he would be finished.  
  
Alma should have been dead. He should have crumbled to ash, his powers maxed out and his akuma self-destruct having been activated. But no – _no_. Somehow, the Order had gotten their clutches onto what should have been a corpse, dragging Alma back to the European Branch where the scientists once more took him under their wing. Probing him, performing some _procedure-_  
  
Alma couldn’t remember it. Not really. The first month was a blur, and he had been in a bed. When he had woken up, he had once more had a full body, limbs attached and all. It had been a cross between his akuma form and his old body, though. The akuma markings were present, but had faded to a dull brown, and the cracks in his skin had lessened. His ears still felt sharp when he touched them though, and his tail remained, the damn thing always twitching.  
  
Still freakish. Still ugly. To stay alive was torture, and Alma didn’t understand _why…_  
  
Alma was a fool to have ever dreamt he could have had anything else.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Several more days passed, and Alma remained in isolation.  
  
He was used to it by now. The silence was all he knew, and the darkness his only comfort. Sometimes, it was even nice; at least he had the illusion of hiding, and never having to see anyone. He didn’t have to witness the disgust in anyone’s eyes when they looked at him, or listen to the dehumanizing way in which they addressed him. Occasionally, a someone would come in – usually a CROW or a scientist.  
  
The CROWs came to periodically escort him to somewhere to bathe and cleanup, but it was always a quick trip and heavily monitored. It didn’t matter if Alma wanted to shower or, god forbid, do his business – privacy was out of the question and Alma quickly had to discard whatever shred of pride he might have held onto.  
  
As for the scientists, it was really only ever one man who came in. He was tall, dressed in a white coat with dark hair and glasses. Komui Lee – that was the name he had given to Alma. He would come, and say hello. It made Alma angry to hear how conversational he could be.  
  
 _“How are you feeling today?”  
  
“Have you noticed any side effects?”  
  
“How has your sleep been?”  
  
_The questions were always asked calmly. There was a cool, methodical way in which they were asked hidden beneath overskirt of lightness. It was subtle, but Alma was no fool; he could always hear it, and he refused to give in. He hated Komui. He hated all of the scientists.  
  
He hated everyone.  
  
Alma sat back, legs pulled up onto the mattress as he pressed his back against the rough, stony wall. His tail curled around his legs, the tip swishing slightly.  
  
Outside the door, Alma heard someone speak.  
  
As always, it was low – a murmur that was too inaudible to make out. Blue eyes flickering up, Alma’s attention lingered on the door. The scientist hadn’t come in a few days, so at first Alma wondered if it was him. However, the murmuring continued on for longer than usual.  
  
Alma’s gaze darkened warily. He didn’t know who was outside, but he wanted them to leave.  
  
As soon as the wish was made, Alma was denied. The locks on the outside of the door clicked, the heavy weight of the wood creaking as it opened. Alma tensed, sucking in a breath as every muscle in his body stiffened. Whoever it was, he wanted them to _go_ -  
  
Alma’s breath stilled.  
  
He didn’t know what to think at first. Alma didn’t know if he _could_ think. No, all he could do was stare, mind blank as he struggled to register just who it was who had entered into the room. Was he imagining it? Maybe he had finally gone delusional from the isolation. Maybe everything had finally gotten to Alma, unhinging his mind as he snapped.  
  
 _‘Yuu.’_  
  
Kanda didn’t say anything. He glanced back, the CROW shutting the door behind him, the locks once more clicking into place. His gaze rested on the door for a moment.  
  
Kanda turned back to Alma.  
  
Alma’s chest tightened. His throat remained dry, with not a sound spilling from his lips.  
  
Kanda stared. He looked different than the last time Alma had seen him three months ago, his hair once again black and his flesh no longer cracked like brittle marble. His skin was its normal color, and his face not twisted into anger – not that murderous disgust and anguish that Alma had last seen.  
  
His eyes were different somehow, and Alma couldn’t stand to look at them.  
  
Sharply, he turned away. The tightness in his chest refused to loosen, and Alma’s stomach knotted up.  
  
Kanda’s gaze lingered on Alma, but he still kept quiet. Glancing around the room, he spied a rickety chair pressed against the wall. Walking over, Kanda grabbed it, bringing it back so it was facing the bed. Silently, he took a seat.  
  
Alma refused to make eye contact.  
  
The silence stretched on, the seconds ticking by painfully and slowly. Tension loomed in the atmosphere, the weight akin to a ton of iron as it pressed down onto Alma with a crushing force. It was agonizing. He didn’t understand why Kanda was there. After all that had happened, he didn’t _understand_.  
  
He was angry.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
The words came out lowly – so lowly, that Alma almost didn’t realize he had spoken them. His voice was so quiet, and hoarse. Alma rarely spoke anymore, even to the scientist. He just never had anything to say. He never cared to try. No one ever wanted to _listen_ -  
  
Kanda didn’t answer. He crossed his arms, his dark blue eyes flickering as he averted his gaze slightly, expression cool and unreadable.  
  
Alma’s fist balled, grip tight. Three months. It had been three months since he had last seen Kanda – since they had nearly torn one another to shreds, with not a care for whoever stood in their way. It had been three months since they had both failed. It had been three months since Alma had failed.  
  
Three months since he had failed to bury that truth.  
  
 _“Don’t say it!”  
  
_ Lips curling, Alma turned away. His tail twitched in agitation, nails digging into his forearms as he remained curled back against the wall. “Can’t even look at me?” he asked, before laughing quietly, the sound strained. “Am I still that disappointing? Or were you expecting to see something else after three months?”  
  
“They wouldn’t let me come before now.”  
  
Alma quieted, the bitter laughter in his chest crumbling to dust. He blinked, expression perplexed as he struggled to register what Kanda had just said. “What?”  
  
When he looked back, Alma unexpectedly locked gazes with Kanda. He froze, the intensity of Kanda’s gaze undeniable. Suddenly, Alma couldn’t think again, and he couldn’t breathe; his lungs refused to work, and he couldn’t look away.  
  
Kanda’s lips pressed together into a thin line, arms still crossed. “I said they wouldn’t let me come before now,” he repeated. “So stop assuming shit.”  
  
Alma didn’t say anything. He stared, still somewhat baffled by the implication of Kanda’s words. Had Kanda tried to come before then? Before he could think further, a sharp pang pierced Alma’s chest, his insides knotting up as the thought of Kanda looking for him brimmed in his heart.  
  
 _‘No.’_  
  
Sharply, Alma looked away, breath suddenly shallow. No. No, Kanda wouldn’t have been looking for _him_. He wouldn’t have been looking for some crude monstrosity gone wrong. No, he would have been looking for…  
  
 _She smiled, eyes bright as she looked back at him. “Do you know this flower?” she asked, voice sweet. “It’s called a lotus flower…”_  
  
Bile threatened to rise up in Alma’s throat, and he forced the acid back down. He took another breath. “Why are you here?” he pressed. “You can’t kill me this time – they won’t let you. So why-“  
  
“I said _stop assuming shit_ ,” Kanda snapped. His gaze burned heatedly as he glared at Alma. Something flickered in his eyes, and he once more looked away. “Tch. Thinking I was going to try to fucking kill you…”  
  
Alma frowned, brow furrowing as he stubbornly looked away.  
  
Neither of them said anything, the weight of the silence encompassing them like an icy shroud. Silently, Alma’s tail flickered back and forth. It felt simultaneously natural and alien to have, his clothing hanging off his slim frame loosely. Somehow, Alma had already been so used to his full akuma body when having awakened – now, he felt lost. Like he was permanently in some costume, mimicking what a human should have been.  
  
 _‘You’re repulsive.’_  
  
The thought scorched Alma, but it couldn’t be helped. He knew it was true. He knew he would never compare to what she had been. What _he_ had once been.  
  
Kanda must have truly hated Alma now.  
  
“You’ve really been in this room this whole time?”  
  
Alma looked up. Kanda still didn’t face him, his attention flickering around the room. A disapproving look carved into his expression.  
  
Alma’s lips pulled back into a smile, eyes cold. “Where else would they put me?”  
  
“Somewhere better than this.”  
  
Alma laughed bitterly. “ _Why_? You know how they are. You know they’d never let me _leave-_ “  
  
He cut off, throat dry as his voice cracked. An annoying prickle of pain pricked at his insides, fingers twisting into the thin linen sheets. Leave. He could never leave. He could never get out, or see…  
  
 _The sky. The sky was so bright and blue. She loved the sky – she loved how clear and pretty it was.  
  
She turned back, and smiled at the man behind her. “Do you know this place?”  
  
_Alma’s jaw clenched. They wouldn’t stop. The memories wouldn’t stop replaying in his head, like some broken record. It didn’t matter how hard he fought – he could never forget. He could never forget who he was, or how he had once been …  
  
Kanda could never forget either.  
  
An unbearable force squeezed at his heart, causing Alma to grimace. His jaw tightened as his teeth clenched. “She’s not here anymore.”  
  
Kanda turned, his attention returning to Alma. His frown momentarily fractured, expression somewhat caught off guard; however, he didn’t get to say anything more before Alma continued.  
  
“She’s not _here_.” Alma’s voice held a slight tremor, before he looked back at Kanda, eyes strangely glassy in the dim lighting. “That’s why you bothered to come, right? To try to see _her_? Because she _isn’t here anymore_!”  
  
The words tumbled out, angry and heated. Alma hadn’t been able to help it; an explosion had suddenly taken place, his emotions bursting through like a shattered dam. They flooded his veins, overwhelming him so much that he couldn’t even think clearly. No, all Alma could think about was _her_ , and how Kanda had loved _her,_ and how Kanda had _chosen her-_  
  
He had chosen her over Alma, before ever knowing they were the same damned person.  
  
Abruptly, Alma looked away. His eyes burned, vision blurring, emotions be damned. Shakily, he spoke. “Get out.”  
  
No response came. No words, or rustle of movement. Angrily, Alma realized that Kanda hadn’t bothered to stand, and before he could stop himself he whirled his head back and snarled. “I said fucking get out! _I don’t want to see you_!”  
  
Kanda visibly tensed, jaw tight. He didn’t move at first, as he stayed seated. However, he soon stood, strangely quiet as no words left his lips. No sneers. No scalding remarks. He was perfectly soundless, his gaze distant as his attention lingered on Alma for a few seconds more.  
  
The door clicked open, and a CROW stepped in. “What’s going on in here?”  
  
“Nothing,” Kanda answered, voice oddly even. He turned, heading back toward the door. “We’re done here.”  
  
Alma’s breath hitched, his heart fracturing in its rhythm. He stared mutely as Kanda left, regret pouring into his chest like poison. _‘Don’t-‘_  
  
The CROW eyed Kanda as he left, then glanced back at Alma one final time. Without uttering so much a word, they too exited through the door, shutting it behind them as the locks clicked into place.  
  
The room fell silent instantly.  
  
Alma exhaled. His chest trembled, as an icy sensation cascaded over his body. Suddenly, he felt very cold and very alone; his chest ached like a thousand blades had skewered his heart, and his stomach was knotted into pretzels, his insides churning nauseously.  
  
 _‘Why did you yell at him?’_ a voice asked Alma – a sweet, gentle voice. _Her_ voice. He clamped his eyes shut, as he shook his head.  
  
Breaths growing uneven, Alma clutched at his ears, the ache in his chest refusing to die. _‘I didn’t mean to,’_ he wanted to cry. _‘I didn’t mean to-‘_  
  
Another sharp inhale, and Alma’s eyes burned, his sight blurred as several tears fell. No, it wasn’t Alma’s fault – he had needed to make Kanda go, because Kanda didn’t care. He didn’t care about Alma, and only cared because he now knew that Alma used to be _her_ … _  
  
‘He doesn’t actually care,’_ Alma thought, as a choked sob fell from his lips. _‘He never did!’_  
  
Alma tried to tell himself these things. He tried to soothe himself with promises of deception, of how Kanda had never truly cared for _Alma_. The only reason he had come was for her – to see that ghost of a face that would never see the light of day, that ghost that should have crumbled to dust so many years ago…  
  
Alma tried to tell himself these things, but it didn’t stop his heart from breaking. It didn’t stop the pain, nor did it erase the cold, hard fact: Alma hadn’t wanted Kanda to leave.  
  
Another sob, and Alma heaved, his lungs straining for air. He wanted to scream and shout, but only tears came, his body shaking as strained sobs racked his body.  
  
He doubted that Kanda would come back.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
A week passed, and Alma received no new visitors.  
  
Only the same ever came: a CROW, or the scientist. It was the same mundane routine. Alma would get up in the morning, be allowed to the bathroom, return to his room, get fed – there was not much differentiation. Komui should show up in the afternoons, always asking the same questions. How Alma felt, how he was doing…  
  
Alma wished he would stop asking.  
  
The door opened, and Alma leaned against the wall, curled up on the bed. He didn’t have to look up to know that it was Komui who had walked in; by this point, Alma knew the routine like clockwork.  
  
Without turning, he saw the scientist in his white coat, glasses glinting in the dim lighting. Alma quietly exhaled. He felt tired, and more than anything wanted to be left alone – at least, left alone by the scientist.  
  
Komui stopped near the bed, and pulled the chair close. He sat down, and smiled politely. “How are you feeling today?”  
  
Alma frowned, the question all too standard. Tail swishing, he didn’t answer.  
  
Komui hummed. “Well, if you’re not lashing out anymore, that’s always a good sign.” His words were good natured, but measured; pushing his glasses back up, he continued. “You’ve mellowed out quite a bit these last few weeks.”  
  
Alma’s nose scrunched up, his mouth threatening to curl in disgust. He was _tired_ – that was the only reason he hadn’t lashed out. It hadn’t changed anything. It hadn’t changed his hatred of the Order, for _everyone-_  
  
 _‘Yuu.’_  
  
The name slipped into his thoughts like a blade of ice, and Alma winced. He pulled his knees to his chest, his arms wrapping around himself protectively.  
  
Komui eyed Alma warily. He waited a moment, in the chance that Alma might speak. However, the second exorcist clearly preferred silence.  
  
Taking a breath, Komui spoke. “I thought you’d be happy to hear that you’ll be moving today – to a different room.”  
  
This caught Alma’s attention. He turned to Komui, thoroughly flummoxed. His surprise soon shifted into suspicion though, his gaze narrowing. “Why?”  
  
“Well, it’s been over three months. And you finally seem to have adjusted to your new body,” Komui explained. “You’re not acting out like before, either.”  
  
Alma’s scowl remained. He didn’t like the way Komui talked about how he had _adjusted_ – Alma hadn’t adjusted to anything. He had been forced into a situation with no way out. And he was _tired._  
  
Abruptly, Alma looked away. “And if I acted out the moment you took me somewhere else?”  
  
“Then we would have to bring you back here – but that’s entirely up to you.” Komui’s attention remained on Alma, as he spoke with an edge of caution. “You would still be closely observed by CROWs, of course – but would at the very least be able to walk around more. I’d imagine that’d be preferable to your situation here.”  
  
Alma bit the inside of his cheek. Out of spite, he wanted to refuse – he didn’t want to accept anything from Komui. He didn’t want any aid or pity – he didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt. Not to anyone from the Order. But, the darkness lingered; it loomed in that lonely, empty room as it threatened to suffocate Alma. Drowning him into silence as he slowly withered away, nothing more than a distant memory of something failed and disastrous.  
  
The latter of those thoughts made it strangely difficult to breathe.  
  
Nails digging into his forearm, Alma held himself. He didn’t trust Komui – he didn’t trust anyone in the Order. And the thought of getting to leave that dreaded room was too good to be true. There had to be a catch. There had to be _something_.  
  
“Where am I supposed to go to?” he asked, voice quiet.  
  
“You’ll still be a bit away from everyone, up on the second level where most the rooms are,” Komui answered. He paused, before continuing. “You will be near the exorcists…but you won’t have to interact with them for a while.”  
  
Alma remained still. He still didn’t understand just what the Order wanted from him, let alone why he’d be near the exorcists. The Order never did anything without some string attached, and Alma was fearful to know what that string was. But to stay in that room, to stay in that _darkness_ …  
  
 _‘Yuu....’_  
  
Again, the name trickled into his thoughts, and Alma’s will resolve to resist shattered like a fragile piece of glass. The exorcists. If he were somewhat close to the exorcists, then he’d be close to Kanda.  
  
Alma’s nails dug into his skin. He was so _pathetic…_  
  
Komui smiled at Alma gently. “We can go now, unless you’d like a bit longer,” he said. “I should tell you now, though – Inspector Lvellie will need to speak with you soon. About what’s to be expected following this.”  
  
Alma tensed as he looked back at Komui. Instinctively, he inched closer to the wall.  
  
“Don’t worry – it’s only a conversation,” Komui reassured. “Now, shall I come back later, or would you like to get settled in now?”  
  
Alma inhaled, as he once more debated. Words barely audible, he forced himself to speak. “Now.”  
  
Komui stood up. “Let’s go then.”  
  
Alma swallowed. His pulse raced a bit, as a sudden wave of anxiety befell him. Three months. He had been in that dark room for three months, after nearly killing everyone, and now he was going somewhere else. But why?  
  
Alma didn’t know. A small voice in his head wanted to scream at him, to shout that he was being a fool and walking into a trap. _‘They despise you,’_ it warned him. _‘They only want to use you – they only ever wanted to_ use you _!’_  
  
It was almost enough to make Alma change his mind. To choose that fate to waste away in the darkness, alone and forgotten. It was almost enough.  
  
Stupidly, he thought of Kanda, and her voice filled his ears.  
  
 _“I love you.”_  
  
Alma was a fool, and he hated himself for it. And he hated himself even more when he followed Komui.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
They wanted to use Alma.  
  
Alma wasn’t surprised. He had known from the moment Komui had come to tell him about a new room that there was some catch. Meeting with Inspector Lvellie had only confirmed such. The man had been as cold as stone as he laid out the expectations of Alma’s purpose: to eventually be a working tool for the Order, and to take on the responsibilities of an exorcist.  
  
 _“Of course, you won’t be compatible with innocence anymore. That akuma shard is still inside of you,” Lvellie explained, as he eyed Alma coolly. “Considering the third exorcists are dead or missing, we will simply have to make the most of you.”_  
  
The conversation still burned in Alma’s memory. He had hated every second of it: the way Lvellie spoke to him, the way Lvellie _looked_ at him. The disgust had been palpable, burrowing into Alma’s nerves like a nasty rash.  
  
 _“Don’t look so sour. After all, it is your fault they’re gone.” Lvellie’s gaze was icy, expression harsh. “With that all said, I trust you’ll do your part. Any more upsets, and I won’t hesitate to have you locked up again.”_  
  
Alma had wanted to lash out – and for a fleeting second, he almost had. He had wanted to shout and scream, to curse at Lvellie. Why should Alma have been blamed for what had happened? He hadn’t even known about the third exorcist project before having been awakened. He hadn’t known about his body being used for some womb as his cells were extracted, mutated by an akuma shard that the Order had decided to insert into his body. He hadn’t _known_.  
  
He hadn’t had a say in anything, either.  
  
He had kept his mouth shut, eyes heated and brimming with venom. But he had said nothing to Lvellie, if only to avoid being sent back to that damned room – no, Alma didn’t want to go back to that place. He didn’t want to go back to the darkness.  
  
Instead, he retreated back to his new room.  
  
It was an adjustment, though it was hard for Alma to say if it was for better or worse. The room was roughly the same size as what he had had before, though it was better furnished. The bed was at least halfway decent, and there was actually a closet, a chair, and a desk – Alma wasn’t sure how much use he would get out of them, but at least it was something.  
  
There was also a window.  
  
It was probably the one thing Alma liked about the new room. Beside the bed, a tall window remained, the curtains thin. At first, Alma had been shocked to have a window: he had anticipated being in a closed off room with no glimpse of outside. But, he could see the sky, and it was so _blue_ …  
  
Alma had quickly learned it was never to be opened.  
  
His hand traced along the window panes, his gaze flickering to the ledge. Near where the latches were, several seals remained: spell seals that would not allow for Alma to even attempt to pry the windows open.  
  
A dull stab of pain filled Alma’s chest, but he could do little more than look away.  
  
The door opened, and Alma caught sight of a CROW. They didn’t say anything, but Alma felt their gaze burning through their mask.  
  
Attention flickering, Alma glanced at the clock on the wall. Right – he was supposed to have dinner at that time.  
  
Without saying anything, Alma left his room. Discomfort prickled at his spine as he exited into the hallway, the sound of the door closing behind him. Alma hated going to the dining hall.  
  
He couldn’t protest though, and walked beside the CROW. It had been a little over a week since Alma had moved into his new room and started this strange routine. He had expected to get his meals in his room, still somewhat hidden away just as he had before. But apparently he was considered safe enough to allow into the dining hall.  
  
Alma hated it.  
  
His muscles tensed as he entered into the dining hall, the hum of chatter filling his ears. Alma winced a bit; he still wasn’t used to crowded areas, and people already swarmed the dining hall. Finders, scientists – even a few exorcists. They were so many people, and Alma had the sudden impulse to turn. He could afford to skip dinner.  
  
Alma glanced back, catching sight of the CROW. Immediately, his thoughts of turning back died.  
  
Uneasily, Alma went to go get a tray of food. The CROW kept back near the doors – something that Alma was a little grateful for. It was suffocating enough that a CROW always had to escort him everywhere. At least Alma could be trusted to get his own damn dinner.  
  
As he went up to the window, Alma’s gaze briefly skimmed the hall. He searched, chest aching as he looked for a glimpse of dark hair or blue eyes. Any glimpse.  
  
Kanda wasn’t there though. He was never in the dining hall when Alma went.  
  
Shoulders slumping, Alma fought the bitter disappointment. So what if he didn’t ever see Kanda again? Alma had told Kanda he didn’t want to see him – Alma had said that. It wasn’t as though Kanda would ever care to talk to Alma again. He wouldn’t care if it wasn’t…  
  
Swallowing, Alma did his best to push aside the sting in his heart. Her. Kanda had only ever loved her.  
  
“…Why is he still here?”  
  
Alma’s ears twitched. He hadn’t yet put in a food order, the cook still working on a few meals that had already been requested. He couldn’t spare a thought for what he even wanted though, his ears once more perking as the same speaker continued.  
  
“…Shouldn’t he be locked up somewhere? He literally tried to _kill_ everyone…”  
  
Sucking in a breath, Alma tried to ignore the speaker. His bit the inside of his cheek, tail flicking about somewhat agitatedly.  
  
“Ch-Chaoji, you shouldn’t say that,” a woman nervously stammered. “He may hear you-“  
  
“I don’t care if he hears me – I don’t understand why the Order is allowing him to stay here, when he’ll probably attack us all the first chance he gets-“  
  
 _Slam._  
  
The sound of something cracking splintered through the air, a shock of silence falling over the dining hall. Alarmed, Alma turned, eyes wide as he spotted the source of the chaos.  
  
It was only two tables away. An exorcist had been knocked to the ground – a stocky young man with the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his cheek. Three other exorcists were nearby, both utterly stunned. One was a tall, pallid man with dark hair and the other a mousy-looking woman with eyes that looked as though they were ready to bulge out of their sockets.  
  
And the third…  
  
Alma’s throat threatened to close up, as he recognized the other exorcist.  
  
Kanda was there, looking ready to go for blood. He stared down at the other exorcist – Chaoji, most likely – expression livid.  
  
Chaoji pushed himself up, glowering at Kanda. “What was that for!? I only said what everyone else is thinking-“  
  
He cut off, as Kanda yanked him by the front of his uniform. “You should really shut the hell up if you don’t want me to ram your face in,” he growled. “Because I’m _really_ damn tempted to…”  
  
“K-Kanda, don’t!” the woman pleaded. “Don’t fight here!”  
  
Kanda refused to budge as he glared back at Chaoji. The dining hall remained unnervingly silent; everyone had stopped eating, their attention now lingering on the two exorcists in a standstill.  
  
Finally, Kanda let go, releasing Chaoji from his grip.  
  
Chaoji stumbled, the tall exorcist with dark hair steadying him. He rubbed his cheek, as he glared scathingly at Kanda.  
  
Kanda didn’t bother to say anything more, and turned. He stopped though, freezing just as he locked gazes with Alma.  
  
Alma stiffened. It was as though he had been paralyzed, turned to stone without any chance of escape. His lungs strained for air, heart beating rapidly in his chest like some caged, tortured bird.  
  
Abruptly, Alma hurried away. He didn’t bother to get any food, rushing to the doors where the CROW remained. Throat tight, Alma spoke. “I’m not hungry – I want to go back to my room.”  
  
The CROW shifted. At first, Alma feared the CROW would force him to go back and get something; however, the CROW did no such thing, and nodded as they led Alma out of the dining hall.  
  
As Alma left, he felt everyone’s eyes on him.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Night fell quickly and Alma was hungry.  
  
He regretted not getting anything in the dining hall. He regretted letting his nerves get the better of him, pushing him to retreat back to his room like some scared, pathetic little creature. Why should Alma have had to hide? Who cared if the other exorcists hated him? Alma didn’t care, and he hated them all anyways.  
  
Except Kanda.  
  
Alma’s body turned rigid at the thought. No. No, he didn’t care about Kanda anymore. Kanda had chosen the memory of that person over Alma and only cared about her. Alma was now just a catalyst for her – that was the only reason Kanda gave a damn. That was the only reason Kanda had stood up for Alma earlier.  
  
Alma rolled over. He had been trying to fall asleep for the last hour or so, the lights out in his room as moonlight spilled through the window. His stomach growled, hollowed and wanting. Alma shoved his face into the pillow in agitation.  
  
 _“…Why is he still here?”  
  
“…Shouldn’t he be locked up somewhere? He literally tried to kill everyone…”  
  
“… I don’t understand why the Order is allowing him to stay here, when he’ll probably attack us all the first chance he gets…“_  
  
Within a split second, Alma’s hunger turned to nausea, the hollowness spreading deep into his chest. Shakily, he exhaled. _‘It doesn’t matter…’_  
  
Alma didn’t want to think about what he had heard. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew that everyone hated him. He knew that everyone thought he was a _monster_ – a threat and a danger. He knew that no one would accept him.  
  
Clutching the bedsheets, Alma curled his body up, his tail wrapping around himself. His chest trembling, his eyes burned, with Alma stubbornly shutting his eyelids tight.  
  
 _Click._  
  
Alma’s eyes opened, startled as he sat up. He turned toward the door just as it cracked open.  
  
“Just let me see him,” someone grumbled, before they came inside.  
  
Alma blinked. A second passed, and the name slipped from his lips too easily. “Yuu?”  
  
Kanda closed the door behind him. He looked over at Alma, eyes wary, and in his hand he held a paper bag. Swiftly, he looked off to the side. “It’s fucking dark in here.”  
  
Alma frowned, for whatever reason turning defensive. “I was going to sleep.” He sat up a bit more upright as he rubbed his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Kanda glanced back at Alma. Swiftly, he walked over to him, shoving the bag into Alma’s grasp.  
  
Alma nearly fell back onto the bed, bracing himself with his hand. He scowled, opening up the bag to peek inside.  
  
He blinked.  
  
Perplexed, Alma pulled out the contents. Two sandwiches and an apple.  
  
“You didn’t eat anything earlier.”  
  
Alma looked up at Kanda, still confused. “What?”  
  
Kanda scoffed. “You didn’t get dinner in the hall. And you look like shit.”  
  
Hearing this, Alma’s gaze turned scalding. “They don’t exactly give five-star treatment…” he seethed, before looking at the food once more. “I don’t need it. I’m not even hungry.”  
  
A loud growl roared from Alma’s insides, his stomach betraying his own words. Face heating up, Alma broke eye contact swiftly.  
  
“Liar,” Kanda mumbled. “Just eat the sandwiches. They have that mayo crap on them.”  
  
Surprise flickered in Alma’s eyes, his irritation momentarily abated. He glanced back at the sandwiches, slightly cautious, before taking one of the sandwiches.  
  
Hesitantly, Alma’s gaze flickered to Kanda. He looked down at the sandwich. “You didn’t have to bring me anything…”  
  
Kanda didn’t say anything. He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes scanning the room.  
  
Alma bit his lip. The silence was awkward, and he wasn’t sure if Kanda planned to leave – or if Kanda planned to stay to make sure Alma actually ate something. Would Kanda do that? Alma didn’t know anymore, but he was tired and his stomach wouldn’t stop growling.  
  
Unable to go any longer without something, Alma took the first sandwich. He ate it quickly, wolfing down the contents in just a few minutes. It tasted good, but Alma had no idea if it was actually the taste or the fact that he had been starving for the last few hours.  
  
Half-tempted to take the second sandwich, Alma paused. Kanda hadn’t said anything, expression a little aloof. For a moment, Alma almost forgot about their last interaction – about those three months in strained isolation, wondering how much Kanda must have hated him.  
  
Within seconds, those memories came crashing back.  
  
Leaving the second sandwich in the bag, Alma’s eyes lingered on Kanda. He took a moment; slowly, his gaze traced over every feature of Kanda. His face, his jaw, his eyes, his hair – like a moth drawn to a flame, he was unable to look away.  
  
When he had first awakened three months ago, Alma realized that he had not actually looked at Kanda. Not really.  
  
Heart lurching, Alma’s insides knotted, the thought of eating anymore suddenly impossible. “You should go.” The words were stiff as they spilled from Alma’s lips, with his next sentence even more strained. “The CROWs won’t like you being in here for long.”  
  
“Tch. Like I care about what they like.” Kanda kept his arms crossed, as he deliberately avoided eye contact. “They won’t do anything as long as I don’t try to break you out or anything…”  
  
Alma bit his lip, tail swishing behind him. He hated when it did that, but he still could never entirely control it. “Don’t say that,” he said, voice suddenly weak. “You wouldn’t-“  
  
“Yeah, I would.”  
  
Alma stilled. “What?”  
  
Kanda didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained distant, the harshness in his features having lessened. “I’d get you out of here,” he finally said, words low. “If I knew how, I would…”  
  
Alma stared. It was as though a sudden weight had crashed down onto him, pressing onto his chest until his heart threatened to break. Breaths turning shallow, a flood of something painfully overwhelming swept over Alma, as he shook his head soundlessly.  
  
“Don’t – don’t _say that_ ,” Alma begged, the plea weak and pitiful. Strained, he tried to breathe, but struggled. It was as though some invisible force were choking him, fighting to keep his words lodged inside. “You don’t – you wouldn’t. You _wouldn’t_.”  
  
Kanda’s face turned, somewhat alarmed. He opened his mouth. “Alma-“  
  
“Just shut up!” Alma snapped. His eyes flashed as he stood up, vision suddenly blurring. “You’re only saying that because you think she’s still here! But I’m not her anymore! _I’m not her_!”  
  
Alma’s voice had risen, to where he was practically shouting. Unable to control himself, his emotions shattered, with any sense of calm abolished. Alma couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the mercy Kanda showed him – those cruel hints of kindness that one might have attributed to _love_. Alma wasn’t blind; that love wasn’t meant for him. Not as he was now.  
  
 _“I’ll wait for you…forever…”_  
  
Teeth gritted, a few tears streamed down his cheeks. “Just…just shut _up_ …” he begged, voice cracking.  
  
Kanda stared. He was somewhat dumbfounded, paralyzed as Alma broke down before him. He snapped out of his trance swiftly though, and without any more hesitation went to Alma.  
  
Alma flinched, as soon as he felt Kanda take his arms. “Don’t!”  
  
“Just stop it,” Kanda spoke. His words were strangely soft, and before Alma could argue, Kanda pulled him close. “Just stop…stop being so stupid…”  
  
“I’m not!” Alma argued, the words broken in-between his tears. “I-I’m _not_ …”  
  
His voice died, a sob taking its place. Kanda’s grip never wavered, as he kept his arms wrapped around Alma securely, holding him close despite his protests. Pathetically, Alma cried, sniffling as his face pressed into Kanda’s shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to give in. He hadn’t wanted to lean on Kanda for support. He hadn’t wanted to, but…  
  
Kanda brought his hand to the back of Alma’s head, his fingers tracing through his hair. He said nothing, his touches firm yet tender.  
  
Alma continued to cry, the sobs soon quieting after a few moments. His hands gripped at Kanda’s uniform, the fabric wet from his tears as he sniffled. God, Alma was more pathetic than when he had been a child, sniveling and crying all the time. He was so weak.  
  
Eventually, his breaths started to even. Alma didn’t pull away though, and Kanda’s hold remained unwavering. It was not long before silence encompassed them in the darkness, with Alma’s breathing shallow and frail.  
  
Gently, Kanda squeezed Alma. “I’m sorry…”  
  
The words were gossamer soft, and Alma’s heart fractured. A heavy yearning tugged in his chest, his body pressing as close to Kanda as possible.  
  
“Don’t go,” Alma suddenly pleaded, the request desperate. “Don’t – I don’t want to be alone here-“  
  
“I won’t leave,” Kanda promised. “Don’t worry – I’ll stay here.”  
  
Gradually, Alma’s breaths eased. He nodded his head mutely as he clung to Kanda.  
  
Kanda stroked Alma’s hair. He did so gingerly, almost as though he were handling a very delicate piece of porcelain. He angled his face slightly, his cheek grazing against the side of Alma’s face, causing Alma to look up. Very hesitantly, they made eye contact, noses nearly brushing against one another.  
  
Alma stilled, his heart pounding in his chest. Close. They were so close…  
  
Tentatively, Alma raised his hand, his touch tracing along the side of Kanda’s cheek. He stilled as Kanda caught his hand, his dark blue eyes locking with Alma’s sky blue ones.  
  
Silently, Kanda leaned in to kiss Alma.  
  
Alma stiffened. At first, he had no idea how to respond; he soon succumbed though, his heart flooding with want and warmth as he felt Kanda’s lips on his own. Closing his eyes, Alma sighed, the tension in his body easing as Kanda deepened the kiss, his hand tracing along the small of Alma’s back. _‘Yuu…’_  
  
As they kissed, Alma took a step back. His leg hit against the mattress of the bed, causing him to break the kiss as he stumbled.  
  
Kanda steadied him, leaning forward as their heads pressed against one another. He exhaled softly. “Alma…”  
  
Kanda’s voice melted into his ears like butter, and Alma’s heart skipped a beat. He exhaled, body trembling with nerves as he gripped onto Kanda’s shoulders, pushing his body onto him, hips rolling forward.  
  
Kanda shivered, and Alma leaned in, their lips skittering across one another like butterflies. Breath hot, Alma lowered his face a bit-  
  
His chin tilted up, Kanda’s touch light. Unable to resist, their lips met once more. The sensation was just too intoxicating – Alma’s blood warmed at the lightest touch, his heart palpitating in his chest so thunderously he feared that someone might heart it.  
  
Carefully, Kanda guided Alma so that he was seated on the edge of the bed, rolling over so that he was lying down. Alma watched dazedly as Kanda got onto the bed beside him, leaning down as he planted another kiss onto Alma’s lips.

Alma hummed, arms wrapping around Kanda’s back. He pulled him close, the warmth of their bodies offering more comfort than Alma had felt in years. Beneath him, his tail curled slightly, the appendage reaching to brush against Kanda’s back.

  
Kanda stilled, the touch taking him by surprise. Alma immediately realized what had happened, and broke the kiss, expression mortified.  
  
“I’m – I’m sorry,” Alma mumbled, as he pulled back his tail. The comforting daze he had been in swiftly dissipated, as he had the sudden urge to shrink away and hide. “I didn’t mean to-“  
  
Eyes flashing, Kanda shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said, careful to keep his tone soft.  
  
Alma turned his face away. His body had tensed up, his legs crossing over one another as he threatened to curl up into a protective ball.  
  
“Alma.” Kanda caressed the side of his face, causing Alma to look back at him. In the moonlight, Kanda noticed his gaze was misty. “Do you…want me to stop?”  
  
Alma bit his lip, conflicted by the question. “I…can we just lie down together?” he asked tentatively. “Just…just next to each other…”  
  
Kanda nodded. He shifted his position, scooping his arm under Alma as he pulled him close, their bodies facing one another.  
  
Alma didn’t say anything, as he nestled close. His legs rubbed against Kanda’s, their breaths soft and even in the darkness.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Alma finally spoke. “Are you…sure you can stay?”  
  
Kanda paused, before he ran a hand through Alma’s hair. “Don’t worry about that. Just try to go to sleep.”  
  
Alma bit his lip, but nodded. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Even if you have to leave before I wake up…?”  
  
Kanda stared at Alma, gaze soft. “Yeah,” he promised. “Yeah, you’ll see me tomorrow…”  
  
Alma nestled into Kanda further, his head resting beneath Kanda’s chin. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Kanda, keeping him close. “I missed you…”  
  
Kanda hugged Alma back, squeezing him gently. “I missed you too,” he murmured, his words barely audible.  
  
Alma kept quiet. His eyelids were heavy, the weight of all that had happened wearing him close to slumber. Slowly, his eyes closed, his consciousness drifting away as he remained in Kanda’s arms.  
  
As he fell asleep, the warmth remained, and for the first time in years, it was a little easier to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Yulma Week 2020 Day 5, Eridanus: Catastrophe | Arrogance | Humility | Loss | Heartache
> 
> And this wraps up my contributions for Yulma Week. ;__; 
> 
> In a lot of ways, this fic is sort of like a really old fic I wrote called “Promise” where Alma survives and is kept by the Order, but I wanted to revisit this concept and flesh it out more. I know had Alma survived it would have been really heavy and painful, but GDI, a part of me wishes he could have had a chance to be with Kanda somehow. >.<
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this final contribution for Yulma Week 2020 - thank you all for reading!


End file.
